In The Knight
by CokeAndRum
Summary: Fiery double agent and mob bartender, Toni Nicholson, has her hands full with maintaining her cover in the face of an emerging romance with a man whose face she’s never seen. Can he keep her safe while protecting his secret identity? Batman/OC.
1. Chapter 1

It was, as usual in Gotham City, a dark and somewhat stormy night. No one inside the high-end gentleman's club noticed – the neon was too bright, the dancers too pretty, and the alcohol too strong. Toni, on the other hand, was not amused. She hated the dark, damp, sketchy nights that made her walk home through this not-so-safe end of town even less appealing than usual. As the mob frequented this particular club, and as a preferred bartender for those less-than-savory (she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut, and the bottles open), she was safer than your usual single female, but still. Gotham was not a city to wander about alone in after dark, these days.

Shaking strawberry blonde hair from her face, she eyed the clock. Only a little while before her shift ended, and she could get the hell out. Toni clicked her tongue impatiently, sparing the too-slow clock one last glance before focusing her attention on some of the more rowdy bar-goers.

A voice sounded from the opposite end of the bar, his words slurred and running together. "Next rounds onme fellas!"

Toni recognized the voice before she bothered to look up. Vince Sorentino, he frequented the joint, buying only the priciest whores, and entertaining the most influential of local mobsters and drug dealers. He talked too much, merely blink at him in a vaguely attractive way and he'd spill his life story in an instant. He kept his women well paid, and his enemies close.

With the involuntary shrug that becomes natural for a bartender, Toni began to wipe down several shot glasses for Sorentino's buddies. Turning to grab the straight vodka, she bumped into Mitch, the older bartender. Unwashed, and wider than he was tall, his presence, to say the least, was enough to make the four-foot bar-space feel cramped. "I'll take it from here, Antoinette, you've been on duty since three. Go home and get some rest."

Toni flinched at her full name, "_Please_, don't call me that. I stopped being Antoinette when my Barbies failed to kick G.I. Joe's ass, and when Daddy was too pre-occupied with his own monsters to chase away mine."

Mitch shrugged, again with that bartender-trademark air, taking the bottle from her and filling the shots smoothly and without spills. "Whatever." He was a tough guy, he had to be to take the closing shift where it meant kicking out drunken mobsters who could easily have you killed for the insult, but he still tried not to argue with Toni. It just made life easier that way.

"Enjoy your night," She replied, almost sarcastically, as she collected her tips and sauntered from behind the bar. Dodging two drive-by gropes and escaping a third attempted ass pinch, she made her way to the side door and out into the night.

The main entrance of the place faced nearly-respectable street front, for appearances, but the back way had alleys as dark and dangerous as the worst in the city. Her saunter faded to a purposeful walk, her heels clicking rhythmically on the cracked asphalt. It took a kind of no-nonsense zen to walk these streets, a combination of looking both too dangerous to bother and too uneventful to bother with.

A gurgled cry broke her concentration near the end of the alleyway. She froze, hearing this time the distinct butcher-shop sound of a knife hitting raw meat_. Shit shit shit!_ She thought to herself. It was one thing to entertain mobsters with loose lips, another to actually witness a crime! Sure, being surrounded by the mob and worse, she was familiar with people just "disappearing", but she'd never been around to see it happen.

Her breath hitching in her throat, Toni's body locked up, her feet glued to the asphalt. The squelching blows and gurgled cries she heard were not those of her current surroundings. She no longer saw the yellow-lit street at the end of the dark alleyway, but the muffled light of the bedroom through the slotted doors of the closet. Her young heart fluttered excitedly in her breast, what a fun new game Daddy was playing with her and his friends. Smilingly they had pushed her into the closet, saying "shush". Like a strange version of hide and seek, but no, the game had stopped being fun, Daddy was screaming, crying, and there were horrible splurting, squishing noises…

Toni gasped, thrust back into the present as the butchering sounds stopped. Trying to breathe properly, her heart pounding, Toni considered fight, or flight. Fight would certainly not end well, and there was no where to go but past the alley way to get out of this one. Gulping, she forced her frozen legs to walk slowly, and deliberately, as if she hadn't heard a thing, to pass the mouth of the alleyway, praying to the powers that were that she'd go unnoticed.

But that was not to be. A hoarse command and the sound of footsteps coming her way chilled her to the bone. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she felt her hope die in her chest. These men, a worn and obviously well-trained trio, had the look – she'd seen it in the men at the club, occasionally in men in the street - it was that cold, deadened look in the eyes of someone who has killed in cold blood, and never lost sleep over it. One stood over a bloody body, the other two spreading out behind her, intent on the sole witness to their crime.

She screamed involuntarily as one grabbed her from behind, spinning her around to face him. Surprised by the terror she felt, trying desperately to think of a fast way to reassure the man she'd keep her mouth shut, she didn't hear the ominous swooshing of fabric by the alley, or see the flash of black that took care of the man by the body.

"Please! Please! I won't say a word, I swear-"she begged, twisting to no end, trying to keep both men in her vision while using the movement to loosen her captor's grip. In the struggle, her hair had whipped from its clip, and she heard the rip of fabric as the man's hand slipped from her body, catching the front of her shirt instead. She was loose, buttons pinging off in all directions; a large strip of her shirtfront was clutched in the man's fist.

A black figure swirled in her vision and her assailant was down, the other running for street. Vaguely, Toni thought she was passing out as the black whirled around her, but her vision cleared and the black mist had disappeared, reappearing at the end of the alley way. The runner was in the figure's grasp in a blink. Then they were both gone, appearing to simply shoot upwards and away in a flap of cape.

Barely noticing that she was hardly decent, Toni turned to run, not caring who, or what, had come to her assistance. All that she knew was that anything that could take out three cold-blooded mob killers, would certainly have no trouble getting her either. She ran, not thinking logically, only focusing on not being found by the menacing black mass, which had so easily taken out three armed men.

She ran straight into a wall of black, getting caught up in fabric, a thick arm pinning her to a male chest. Adrenaline rushing, air ravaging her lungs, Toni kicked and lashed at the man, a scream bubbling up and out of her throat. "Be still." Gravelly and deep, the voice, dominant and strangely compelling, made Toni sag, exhausted. "Look at me." The voice continued.

She obeyed without thinking – it was that kind of voice that inspired unquestioning obedience. Some part of her, remote from that which had been panicking and reacting to the attack, shivered pleasurably at the voice. It made even that simple a command almost carnal. Had she not just nearly been stabbed to death in an alley, she would have enjoyed this experience. Looking up, further up than she expected, over the expanse of black-coated muscle, she found his eyes. They, too, were as dark and compelling as his voice, staring out from a metallic black half-mask that covered his face from his nose to the crown of his head.

"Who are you?" he asked, the voice as steely as his eyes, and the grip he had her in.

"T-Toni, Toni Nicholson," She replied weakly, knowing full well that that she was absolutely helpless.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Toni." He continued in that bone-melting voice, that tiny part of her watching more the way his lips moved than the eyes he'd told her to meet. She nodded dumbly in response, simply unable to form a more coherent thought.

The stranger shifted his grip as the woman leaned against him, trembling. Vaguely interested, he noted that, while she clung to him for dear life, she also made weak movements as if to pull away, like a frightened rabbit that longed for escape, but hadn't the energy to do so. Toni, as she was called, breathed shallowly through softly parted lips, the pupils of her eyes were dilated leaving only a small sliver of gold-green iris visible.

"Deep, slow breaths." He instructed. If she kept sucking in air like that, she was going to hyperventilate, possibly go into shock. She obeyed him, her eyes closing; her forced deep breaths whistled in and whooshed out, puffing her loose, strawberry blonde hair about her face. He felt her grip on him tighten ever so slightly as she gained a bit of control. "Better?"

She nodded vigorously, squeezing out a small "Yes" in a cracked voice.

"Good. Now, Toni, I'm going to take you home. Where do you live?"

She opened her mouth to reply, and then something of her usual self began to kick in. The breathing had helped her regain some control over her mind; though to have him so close was still unsettling. "I can get myself home." _Anyone _raised in Gotham knew better than to give a stranger their address, particularly if that stranger was a man.

If she'd been watching his eyes closely, she would have seen a brief flash of amusement. However more settled she was now than she had been when he'd grabbed her, she was still in no condition. Without warning, he released her, stepping back a half-step. Toni wobbled for a quick moment and then sat down heavily, legs trembling too much to carry her at all. Giving her a moment to absorb her predicament, he swept her up again. "Where do you live?" He repeated, voice slightly gentler, though no less commanding.

"Corner of 13th and West." She replied, accepting defeat.

"That's quite a ways from here," He commented, amusement evident in his tone, eyes like the darkest chocolate flashing to meet hers, almost accusing her. "At least a mile. A bit far for a woman to be walking home by herself-"

Despite her position, in the arms of a mysterious man in a cape and body armor, in a dark alley, and completely at his mercy, Toni's temper flared. "I've been completely fine walking home by myself loads of other times-"

"Not this time" he interrupted, eyes flicking downward pointedly. Realization hit Toni before she even, flinchingly, glanced down at her exposed chest, that she had unfortunately chosen one of her bras that compromised sexiness for comfort.

"Ah." Toni pursed her lips, a blush rising up her neck to her cheeks. She overlapped the edges of her shirt the best she could, with the buttons popped off and held in his arms. Even if he had the most delicious voice she's ever heard, that didn't mean he got to stare at her chest! She ignored that tiny part of her that wished that she had been wearing a nicer bra.

He was, in spite of himself, a bit impressed by the woman. She walked home, in the middle of mob territory, alone at night, and had the gall to talk back to someone she knew could take her down. With her shirt gaping open. He was going to have to find out more about her, he decided. Someone who could walk through this area alone, night after night, obviously had to have secrets. But that could wait until after he'd gotten her home, and safe.

Pretty much back to her usual self, Toni finally took stock of who it was that had saved her as she glanced discreetly up at him. So, _this_ was the elusive 'Caped Crusader', Batman? She'd known that it was him, but, given her mental state it hadn't exactly been at the top of her list of most important facts with, say, living until her next birthday. She nibbled her lip, embarrassed at how long it had taken her to realize such an obvious fact- she cleared her throat "So, you're Batman," she faltered, trying not to laugh at how completely unintelligent speaking made her sound.

"Yes" was the short reply, as if this was a matter of unimportance. Toni made an incoherent sound of protest as he jounced her a bit to shift most of her weight so that she was securely cradled against him and he could reach the belt at his waist. He procured a black gadget very similar to gun; Toni's heart gave a hard throb of panic. "Relax."

She tried to, but honestly? Absolutely nothing that had happened this evening was at all relaxing, least of all realizing that she was now at the mercy of Gotham's most controversial crimefighter. It would make, however, the best story ever, if she lived through it...

Interrupting her thoughts was a sudden tug, and then they were flying! Well, not really, it was more being pulled rapidly upward (apparently she hadn't noticed the grapple being attached to one of the tall buildings around them), and it was enough to make her squeak in surprise and wrap herself around him as best she could, determined not to fall off.

So engrossed was she in preventing what seemed to be an evident death, Toni jolted when their rapid upward sweep stopped short. Toni hesitantly peeked down, expecting to see concrete rooftop.

Instead, she was met with an impressively high bird's eye view of the alleyway. For a horrifying few seconds, Toni's position in the crook of his right arm angled dangerously downward, as he shifted his grip from the grapple gun to the building's edge. "Oh, god!" Toni cried out in alarm, fisting her hands in the folds of his cape at his shoulders, her eyes never wavering from the incredibly solid ground below. _God, if there is one, please, in the name of all that is good, don't let him drop me!_

With a guttural grunt, the muscles straining in his only available arm, he pulled them up inch by agonizingly muscle-pulling inch. Standing on the roof, he gave her a reproving look (made all the more menacing by the mask). "I'm not going to hurt you." He repeated, as though she should have realized that he was, you know, _Batman_, and had done this before without anyone dying. It softened a little (it was impossible to make any expression formed through a thick, black bat-mask _soft_) to amusement, as he realized she didn't know what the next step was.

Adjusting his grip around her waist (ignoring the small, off-duty part that noticed what a rather nice waist it was, and rather liked having his arm around it), and with a purposeful snap of the cape, jumped off the building.

Toni shrieked, embarrassingly enough, squeezing her eyes shut and holding on for dear life - before she realized that instead of plummeting to a squashy death, they were gliding along. Tentatively peeking over his shoulder, Toni eyed the deceptive fabric of his cape. What appeared to be flimsy and frail material was now rigid and fixed, like the wings of a bat. "How...?" she gasped, unable to wrap her mind around how they could possibly be gliding smoothly along instead of plummeting to their deaths.

Awed, she turned to him, only to be met by what appeared to be a deadpan stare, until he chuckled. The sound, soft, and rich, sent a chill down Toni's spine. All of her senses snapped to attention. A small part of her -the part that was _not_ acutely aware that they were soaring high over the streets of Gotham- zeroed in on the mouth that produced such an alluring sound. "Are you _laughing _at me?"

The chuckle only intensified, sending another set of shivers through her. "Yes," was the monosyllabic reply, voice (if possible!) even more appealing with the background of chuckles.

It did not, however, make her feel any better - now she was torn between making a smart return, and having him decide to drop her (not that she really thought that The Batman would drop her, but still... it probably wasn't very intelligent to backtalk a man carrying you god-knows-how-high above concrete), and spending the rest of the trip listening to him laugh at her. She settled for muttering "Well, its not like I know anyone else who can fly," and did her best to distract herself, while not paying attention to that tiny, lustful side of herself. It had gotten her into trouble before, and she was pretty sure that Batman was trouble.

This response only rewarded her with another shiver inducing chuckle. It didn't help that she was held so close to him either. With every soft burst of amusement she could feel breath, warm and moist, ruffle her hair and fan down the bare patch of neck left by her windswept hair. Biting her lip, Toni shook her head slightly, trying to quash her instinct to curl her toes. _When was the last time I had sex?_ she thought, disgruntled, as they soared over several low buildings in silence, landing and jumping again to gain momentum. She glanced surreptitiously at Batman's partially covered face. _Because,_ w_hen you begin thinking a stranger in a mask is attractive, that's definitely a red flag…_

_However attractive that stranger might be,_ she added, as her eyes raked over that mouth of his_. Especially that voice_...

The rattling of her fire escape acted as the proverbial cold shower to that line of thinking. The landing had barely enough room for the two of them to stand, and his cape flowed over the edge. Honestly, she'd never realized how very embarrassingly dingy her apartment was, the brick walls streaked with who-knows-what, the windows not much better. Foggy with grime, they showed a set of rooms small, and as cluttered as much as was possible for a girl without enough money for much unnecessary clutter. It made standing there, in his arms (rather nice arms, really), that much more awkward. What would she do, invite him in for coffee? The image of Batman sitting on her battered, thrift-store couch was enough to make her nearly snort out loud.

"Uhhhm…" Toni began, making a face as the inevitable blush made her face shine (what she felt was) like an unattractive traffic light. They stood for a few moments, his arm still locked securely about her waist, a comforting pressure. She glanced furtively at the musculature of said arm, the way the material of his suit clung to the impressively tight bands of muscle, to every vein and ligament. She shuddered, _How many men have arms like that…?_ Despite all logical reason, Toni felt safe. No worrying about what could possibly lurk in her dark apartment other than her dog, and some empty Chinese take-out containers.

Clearing her throat, she disengaged herself from his arms, however nice it was to be held so close to such a very tall and ripped individual… Sucking in her bottom lip, she bent to the window and pushed it open, popping in the screen before hopping down into the darkened living room. Immediately, a cacophony of barking sounded from the middle of the pitch black. Nearly jumping a mile, Toni leapt for the nearest lamp and flicked it on. In the dim, buttery glow, her cairn terrier(A/N: Think Toto from the Wizard of Oz), Spike, hopped from the shabby couch to bark sharply at the fire escape outside.

Turning to look, though she really shouldn't have expected him to leave without some sort of formal goodbye, Toni jumped when she was face to face with Batman.

"Thank you?" She murmured, uncomfortable.

He nodded, acknowledging her thanks, a concerned look in his eyes (from what she could see of them, anyway). "You should lock up better. It's getting bad around here." He gave the lock-less window a pointed stare.

"I don't think I have that much to worry about," What started off as an almost rational argument quickly dissolved as her traitor mouth added "Not with the Batman around."

He flashed her a - what was that? He turned too quickly for her to tell if that was almost a _smile _under that look, or just a flash of reluctant amusement in his eyes, and with a swish of cape, glided off her landing.

Toni sighed and, with slight difficulty, shut the window. Squinting slightly, Toni raked the darkness outside for a long few minutes after he'd vanished. She glanced dubiously at the rust encrusted window lock, then rolled her eyes and shut the shades. She'd been able to avoid several run-ins with potential homicidal psychopaths up until now, it didn't seem likely that they were about to come crowding to her fire escape. Turning from the window, she cast a gloomy glance around her living room, taking in the general shabbiness and mess that occupied the small space. Besides, who in their right mind could possibly look into this apartment and think, "_jackpot"_?

At her heels, Spike snuffled, tail wagging, eyes bright. Smiling, Toni scooped up the little ball of black and gray fur, receiving a face full of doggie kisses. "All right, all right Spike. I bet you're hungry. Dinner, and then bed. It's been a long day."


	2. Chapter 2

Lt. James Gordon, alone at his desk at the police station (he worked many late nights much to the puzzlement of some of the other officers), barely even looked up as his window opened abruptly, and a mass of black landed on his floor. "I was expecting you." The lieutenant commented lightly, holding a file marked "confidential". They'd known each other for a while, Gordon and Batman, to the point of being friends of some sort. He had to keep the partnership (if you called it that) under wraps, though - few of the other officers were _quite_ as welcoming towards the Caped Crusader.

"Is that so?" the smack of the window falling shut punctuated the outwardly curt response.

Gordon resisted the urge to roll his eyes, snorting derisively. These impromptu meetings - well after midnight, while the hum of the janitor's floor buffer hummed in the background like distant music - always started out the same. As much as the Batman made it sound like he had much better things to do than hang around in the Police Lieutenant's office, Gordon knew that he needed inside information, information that couldn't be gathered while parading around in an animal suit.

He threw down the file with a sharp slap, a few of the papers fluttering out to fan across the desk. News headlines outlining several homicides, the victims of which all were somehow however distantly related to or associated with the mob. Specifically, the Falcone crime family's branch of the mob. "When a succession of murders shows up on the Gotham City News report, I know to expect a visit from Gotham's very own crime-fighting vigilante."

"I'm not a vigilante." Batman protested, but moved to take the folder anyway. They'd had the vigilante debate before, and it had gone nowhere.

"We need to know what's going on." Gordon continued, ignoring the Batman's protest. "If its full-on war between families, or if there's someone else powerful enough to whack these. See here," he got up to point out several pictures in the file. "Sonnie Dimassio, Frank Cerbone… they're low-level. But Sam Lopresti? George Degrassi? They weren't friends of the Falcones, by any means, but they weren't exactly entry level either." Gordon's eyes, on Batman', showed a clear sense of concern through the usual, calm control. Gotham City could barely manage (and that was giving them far more credit than they deserved) its' mob problem, without adding a new, unknown factor.

"I'll look into it." The Crusader promised, nodding at Gordon. There was a moment of silence before Batman thought of something he'd wanted to know. "Toni Nicholson. Do you have a file on her?"

Gordon, who had been preparing for Batman's usual swoop from the room by gathering his papers, looked up in surprise. "Toni Nicholson. That's a name I haven't heard in a while."

The corners of Batman's mouth pitched downward, doing nothing for his already intimidating and generally unhappy demeanor. "You've heard of her?" the surprise in his voice was evident.

Gordon raised an eyebrow, "You haven't?" Silence met this remark. Gordon cleared his throat, hastening to explain. "She's the mob's silent bartender. She works at one of their favorite gentleman's clubs, Fire and Ice, where the booze flows just as freely as their speech, if you know what I mean."

"So she's one of yours." Batman continued thoughtfully. It explained a lot, that fact. Like why she was brave enough to walk through that area of town alone, night after night - the mob generally looked after their own.

"You could say that." Gordon replied, a little confused as to why Batman, of all people, would be asking about Toni. "She came in on her own, we didn't place her there." It was, after all, extremely difficult to place undercover cops in the mob. "What brought her up?" He continued, curiously.

"I had a run in with her and a couple of hit men. They'd been disposing of an undesirable and she'd been the sole witness; needless to say, she was in need of my assistance." He replied evasively, crossing his arms and leaning against a convenient filing cabinet in his darkened corner of the Lieutenant's office. It wouldn't be prudent to mention that he'd simply been intrigued by the woman who so boldly commuted in some of Gotham's worst alleyways miles away from her own home.

Gordon frowned "That's odd; Toni usually takes good care of herself…"

"As she repeatedly tried to assure me while the adrenaline in her system made it impossible for her to walk home unattended."

The Lieutenant chuckled, shaking his head. "Yes, that's Toni."

"What brought her in?" The mob did not take betrayal well – the death of an informant was generally neither quick, nor neat.

"No idea." Gordon shrugged. "All I know is, she came in about a year ago with the information that bagged Falcone's enforcer Giovanni. I've only met her a couple of times, she usually talks to one of the officers who does a little delivery work on the side." To pay for a drug problem, but he didn't elaborate that. They had enough problems filtering out the corrupt cops, that any honest ones were needed, no matter what they did on their free time. The Giovanni case had been a pretty big case – big enough that she needed the protection of contact only with off-duty cops. Traipsing into the police station every time she had enough to turn a mobster in, would get her very dead very quickly.

Batman knew the Giovanni case – it had been big precisely because it had been one of the few cases indicting a mobster before he'd come back to Gotham. In fact, the absolutely airtight evidence the only reason it had gone through. This information only made her all the more… intriguing.

Batman passed a gloved hand over his mouth, stroking his chin in thought. An informant from the inside could be of much use to him, especially in light an increase in mob activity. "Do you think she may know something about this?" he posed the question delicately, striding to jab his finger on the file on the desk.

Gordon looked doubtful. "I hardly think that she'd be willing to be interrogated on the mob's latest workings-"

"I'm not talking about an official Police interrogation." Batman intoned darkly. While it was useful to be in line with a high-ranking member of Gotham's police, he did not completely invest his confidence in their methods

Gordon raised his eyebrows at that remark. They had a long-running disagreement over whose methods were more effective. "I don't think hanging her upside down and shouting is going to get you anywhere. She's better than that." He replied, evenly. "Terrorizing her is only going to lose me the one of my better agents."

Batman did not look amused at the insinuation that his tactics were less than effective - also, he hadn't been planning to get quite that harsh on her in the beginning, anyway. She owed him a favor, after all. "I wasn't planning on anything drastic," Batman said curtly, "Secrecy, at least, is vital."

Gordon sighed, reclining in his chair and massaging his temples. "You just want me to let you handle this, then."

Batman nodded, turning to go.

"Just don't get her into any more trouble than she's used to, you tend to do that."

Ignoring this comment, with one leg out the window, Batman turned to glance reprovingly at Gordon, "I can handle it. I'll check in with you if I can get any worthwhile information."

Gordon sighed as Batman did his customary, leap-from-the-window exit. Had anyone told him two years ago that his job would mean making friends with a nutcase with a mask and a vendetta; he'd have laughed at them. Now? Not so much. Collecting his coat, he moved to be home before he had to come back to work.

Batman had a similar problem. There was about an hour left until dawn, and though he wouldn't turn into ash at the sight of the sun, the batsuit was much less intimidating in broad daylight, and he did have a day job (well, afternoon job, really) to eventually get around to.

As Batman glided along over streets and flickering street lamps, he sighed, exhausted. His mind simply refused to think coherently. It leapt from one of the night's events to another, sticking on his new assignment. He needed first to familiarize himself with Miss Nicholson's schedule if he was to get in enough time to speak with her. Simply showing up at someone's apartment to ask questions didn't exactly guarantee that they'd be home.

Visiting during the day was out of the question, he had his own business to attend to during the day. Not to mention that the Batsuit was for night time purposes only, not for a leisurely stroll down to the slums in broad daylight. And Bruce Wayne did not make house calls to mobster bartenders.

It was the sort of problem that he did not solve well at this hour. The trip back through one of several hidden entrances to the Batcave (because everyone needs an escape route or three) was just about all he could handle. The dark, dampness of the Batcave didn't work to improve his mood - changing from the suit to regular clothing in the gloom was almost intolerable. For the umpteenth time he wished that being a closet superhero meant less hiding in dank caves and more warm rooms. The study the clanging (he promised to finally get around to fixing that) elevator deposited him almost fit the bill, however harsh a reminder of the fact that he was no longer Batman, but Bruce Wayne, that it was.

As Bruce stepped wearily into the study, a book case swiveled shut to conceal the elevator shaft behind him. He had donned the uncomfortable clothes of earlier that evening, a grey pinstriped suit, starched white shirt, black tie, and polished shoes, merely for the sake of decency. A pair of sweats, and his bed would have suited him just fine.

"Welcome back, Master Bruce."

* * *

**AN**: Sorry the ending to this particular installment is so abrupt, that wasn't _quite_ the way it was planned - its not unfinished, this is just a warning that there may be some subsequent editing/re-posting of this chapter later.

As there _was_ a planned unveiling of our Villain that's going to have to wait a bit now, I was wondering if I might start up a poll of sorts. What villain do you think we are going to use? We haven't given much background at all, but I think it might be fun. It's a cannon villain, for a hint.

I can't _promise_ any sort of reward, though I will talk to Rum about a possible cameo about the first person to PM us with the correct cannon villain!


End file.
